


Aftermath

by rowdyhooligan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 01:35:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18110567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowdyhooligan/pseuds/rowdyhooligan
Summary: In the wake of The Snap, the reader tries to be there for Tony when he needs her most.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> cross posted from tumblr

It was inevitable that things would be different in the wake of…of everything. All the suffering and heartache and loss, it was only natural that the normal rhythms of life would change. And they had, drastically, for everyone left behind. In spite of this, the old adage proved to be true: the more things change, the more they stay the same.

It wasn’t the first time you’d woken up to an empty bed, and you highly doubted it would be the last. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you groggily patted the space beside you, only to find the sheets cold. It wasn’t even a surprise at this point, waking up alone. For as long as you’d been together, his sleep schedule had been irregular during the best of times. Now though, it was practically nonexistent.

Shaking your head, you tossed aside the duvet, fumbling about in the dark for your robe. Tying the sash tight, you asked, “Is he in the usual place, FRIDAY?”

“Yea, Boss,” the AI responded immediately, “been down there for three hours, forty two minutes, and seventeen seconds.”

Doing some quick mental math, you realized with a resigned sigh that Tony had slept roughly an hour and a half before heading back to his lab- a new record. “Thanks, FRIDAY.”

“Sure thing, Boss.” There was a slight pause before the AI continued, a note of concern in her voice. “Boss…he’s in pretty rough shape. Stress levels and blood pressure are elevated, for starters.”

“Okay, FRIDAY, thanks for the heads up.”

Quietly padding down the stairs to the lab, you punched your code into the keypad, Metallica blaring over the speakers. FRIDAY automatically lowered the volume to something less earsplitting, Dum-E and U whirring over in your direction. Absentmindedly petting them, it took you a moment to locate Tony amid the general chaos of his lab. Hunched over his workbench, he hadn’t so much as stirred at your entrance, all of his attention on the screens in front of him.

Shooing the robots away, you made your way to him, making plenty of noise so as not to startle him while he was so lost in thought. You’d learned long ago that surprising him or catching him off guard tended to send him into a panic attack, or worse; the last thing you wanted was to send his anxiety spiraling out of control.

Softly calling his name, you ran a gentle hand up his back, keeping your touch light. He leaned into it, the only sign he’d noticed your presence. Spread out in front of him across the myriad of screens were various schematics and plans and muted news reports from around the world. His eyes darted from one screen to the next, fingers tapping restlessly as his focus shifted.

On close inspection, it was easy to see the lack of sleep was taking its toll on him. His complexion had a gray tinge to it, accentuating the deep set circles beneath his bloodshot eyes. Frown lines bracketed his mouth, permanently etched into his skin it seemed. Silver strands of hair shot through the silky brown more and more each day. He’d aged so much in the time that had passed since The Snap- as the press referred to it- the enormous weight of self imposed responsibility and guilt threatening to eat him alive.

Your heart ached for him, your worry and fear for his health and safety growing by the day. The world may see him as ‘Iron Man’, but Tony was all too human, the man behind the machine working himself to death as he searched for answers. The worst part was knowing there was little you could do to help, other than be there for him when he needed you.

“Whatcha working on,” you asked softly. Nagging him to go to bed wouldn’t accomplish anything- if anything, he would just dig his heels in and set up camp in his lab. Patience was needed, and fortunately you were pretty well practiced at this point.

“Pockets.”

“Uh, come again?”

“There’s got to be a way,” he replied in lieu of answering your question. “If we can track down Thanos, there has to be a way of bringing them back.”

“Tony-”

“I’ve been talking with Thor, and he thinks-”

“Tony-”

“-the soul stone is the key.”

Intrigued in spite of yourself, you thought it best to just let him talk it out before trying to convince him to go to bed. “How so?”

He launched into a rambling, convoluted explanation of ‘pocket dimensions’ that your tired mind struggled to keep up with. Tony didn’t seem to notice your blank stare, barely pausing for breath. Stumbling over his words a few times, he ran a frustrated hand over his face, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes.

You were quick to note the slight tremor in his hand, your brows furrowing in worry. Tony didn’t notice, prattling on as his focus jumped from one screen to the next, seeming to forget you were even there. Waiting for a chance to jump in, you cleared a space for yourself on the worktable, perching on the edge.

“Tony,” you said once he finally tapered to a stop, “if what you’re saying is true and this pocket dimension actually exists, that’s… that’s incredible. But opening it, or even trying to find it, isn’t going to be easy, especially the way you are right now.”

He frowned, eyes struggling to focus on your face. “What d’you mean, I’m fi-”

“No, Tony, you’re not fine,” you interrupted, gently taking his face between your hands. “You’re sleep deprived and running on fumes, and if you don’t take some time to rest, you’re gonna end up in the hospital. Baby, I know you think you have to do all of this on your own, but you don’t. Steve, Thor, the others… they’re all here for you. _I’m_ here for you. And whatever it takes, we’ll find a way. But you have _got_ to sleep.”

“I can’t,” he mumbled, looking away at the screens.

“Tony,” you began, only to be cut off.

“You’re not listening,” he repeated, voice cracking, “I _can’t_ sleep. Whenever I try, it’s like- it’s like I’m back there. Thanos is right there, and then he’s not, and Pet-”

He broke off, blinking back tears. You didn’t dare move or speak; Tony had never told you what happened on Titan or the weeks he’d spent floating lost in space. You’d managed to glean a little of what he’d been through from the nightmares that haunted what little sleep he got. More than once you’d been jolted awake from his frantic thrashing about, the young Peter Parker’s name on his lips.

“I can’t go through it again. I just can’t. And if there’s a chance, any chance, that they’re still alive… I have to find a way to bring ‘em home. That’s all there is to it.”

“Tony, what happened to Peter- to everyone- it’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault, except for Thanos. Punishing yourself for it isn’t going to accomplish anything. And I know that what you and the others are working on is important, but staying up til all hours of the night, working yourself to the bone… you can’t keep doing this, Tony. You’re exhausted, baby, and your body is gonna shut down on you if you don’t at least try to rest. Besides, tired people make mistakes, and this is one project you can’t afford any errors. Sleep, baby, please.”

Shaking his head, he began, “The nightmares-”

“I’ll be right there, watching over you,” you promised, “all night if I have to. Every night, if that’s what it takes. Whatever you need, Tony, I’m right here.”

“You sure about that? Everything’s gone to hell, including me, so if you want out now’s the time,” he warned, his eyes begging you to stay.

“Tony, I don’t know how many times I’ve said it, but I’ll say it again- I don’t care how complicated this gets, I still want you. I’ll always want you,” you said, pulling him into you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He sighed, relief washing over him. Burying his face in your chest, his breath fanned across your skin. You cradled him to you, carding your fingers through his hair, letting him take comfort in your presence.

“What’d I do to deserve you,” he murmured, almost too quiet for you to hear.

“Shhhh,” you hushed him, stroking up and down his back. “I’m right here, I’m right here.”

It took several more minutes to get him off of his stool and up the stairs to the bedroom. FRIDAY helpfully dimmed the lights, leaving you just able to make out his features. You helped him shuck off his sweatpants and shirt, leaving him in just his boxers. Waiting until he crawled under the covers, you settled beside him, welcoming the weight of him when he all but draped himself across your torso.

Content to play big spoon, you watched as he gradually let go, the tension leaving his body as sleep claimed him. Pressing a soft kiss to his hair, you kept true to your word, passing the hours keeping his nightmares away.


End file.
